


A Walk In The Park

by JulietsEmoPhase



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Meet-Cute, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 05:09:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3838324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulietsEmoPhase/pseuds/JulietsEmoPhase
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Draco suffers a minor accident in the park at the hands of a handsome, dark haired stranger, the night goes a direction he didn't expect, and he finds himself challenging some of his preconceptions about his own self-worth.</p><p>Muggle AU. Drarry Slash. Smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Walk In The Park

**Author's Note:**

> So, I came across some photos of one of my favourite DIY Dracos (Lucky Blue Smith) messing around on a skateboard, and then before I knew what was happening this one shot came out. I’m actually really pleased with it, as it touches on some darker themes that I’ve been wanting to explore more, and probably will bring up again in the future. But it is still fluff mostly ha ha. 
> 
> Just a note on the British education system, in case you need the context. School is compulsory until the age of 16 when you take your GCSEs (or OWLs lol). Then you can take 3 to 5 A-Levels (NEWTs) in various subjects over a period of 2 years, the results of which get you into university where you normally specialise in one subject. A regular degree lasts 3 years, then you can do a masters for another year, and then a doctorate/PhD lasts at least 3 more years depending on what you’re studying. That should be all you need to know my non-British friends!
> 
> This story is R-Rated for some adult language and smut (hurrah!)

A Walk In The Park

 

 

      “Draco,” sighed Pansy Parkinson as she took a drag on her cigarette and leant against the half pipe.  “How long are you going to make me suffer this for?”

   He grinned at his best mate, stamping on the board so it snapped up in the air and into his waiting hand.  “Until I remember all my mad skilz,” he said, stressing the ‘z’ to irritate her, taking a swig of cider from their selection of cans on the ground. 

   “You are far too old to be messing around on a skateboard,” she said, raising a perfectly pencilled eyebrow.  “Rollerblades I could maybe tolerate, but this just makes you look ten years old.”  She flicked her dark hair over her shoulder and folded her arms.  “You are a rubbish gay.  Why aren’t we doing our nails and gossiping about boys?”

   “Because,” Draco Malfoy wagged his finger at her.  “I am one of those _remarkable_ gays who somehow manages to have an interest range outside of that of your average One Direction fan.  I like the boythings _and_ the girl things, isn’t that unbelievable?”

   She smirked at him saucily.  “Rubbish,” she repeated with emphasis. 

   Draco winked at her then dropped the board again, pushing himself along the concrete in a half hearted figure eight.  He didn’t care about her complaining; if she really minded, she wouldn’t have let him yank her out of halls and into the park. 

   There was something about going to university that made people regress, he’d noted during their first year, and as the summer had crept back over the city so the water pistols had come out, the kiss chase had begun and the late night LARPing had mysteriously pulled people in. 

   Draco, for his part, had discovered an old skateboard in a charity shop whilst Pans had been hunting for bargains, and refused to be talked out of being ripped off as he paid a tenner for the battered thing.  It was in good nick though, considering, and once he’d given the wheels a bit of an oil he’d been pretty pleased with the result.

   After a week of riding it between classes though (much to Pansy’s mortification) he’d wanted to try some of the tricks he’d perfected in his youth, and insisted on going the other side of town to the only decent half pipe ramp.  Several teenagers had been hanging around, who Pansy had not fancied making friends with, so they’d bought themselves a crate of cider and hung around until the kids had ventured off to pastures greener.

   Pansy seemed to accept she wasn’t going to win this round, so instead dropped unceremoniously to the ground and cracked another can.  “Can’t you at least wear a helmet?” she asked as he whizzed past again.  “Knee pads?”

   “Oh give over _mum,”_ he ribbed her, even though she was right.  “I’m not doing anything crazy.”

   She huffed out a cloud of smoke.  _“I’m not taking you to A and E,”_ she sang at him, waving her fag like a conductor’s baton.  She was all chipped black nails and piercings and lack of shits to give.  But Draco knew if it came down to it, she really would take him to hospital.  She’d bitch about it until the end of time, but that’s what the best kind of friends did. 

   It was nice having her come along; her half-hearted protests actually made it more fun.  He’d been prepared to come alone, but the whole point of trying to skate again was to recapture some of that joy he’d found in his early teens, hanging around at his local park with a gaggle of friends.  Skating alone probably wouldn’t have felt right.   

   He stuck his fingers up at her as he twisted the board under his feet, flipping it with the idea of landing back on it and carrying on his skate.

   Instead, he tripped over as it landed on his side, stumbling forewords and pin wheeling his arms.  Pansy dissolved into peals of laughter, keeling onto her side as she unabashedly mocked him.  “Mad skilz Drake,” she giggled.  _“Mad!”_

   “He cracked his head open yet?” drawled a voice as their other friends rounded the pipe, armed with more alcohol, snacks and a set of speakers.  Draco paused the board, sweeping white blond hair out of his eyes, and gave Pansy a smile that he hoped she wouldn’t interpret as affectionate, otherwise she might beat him.  He couldn’t help it though – she must have invited them along and it was more the merrier as far as he was concerned. 

   Blaise Zabini was tall and dark, Theo Nott smaller with eyes that hinted at his Chinese heritage.  Both looked as amused as Pansy at Draco’s renewed interest in his childhood pastime.  He couldn’t help but feel content at the sight of them plonking themselves down on the grass at the edge of the concrete, inserting themselves into his little world.  Skating was always where he had felt most at ease, the place where he’d been able to escape home and school, where he’d discovered drinking and weed and girls, which had in turn lead him to realise he really rather preferred boys.  That skate park had been custodian of his hopes and dreams and heart. 

   But real life had bled into his sanctuary despite his best efforts.  Exams, results, sixth form, university, it had all been one race after another, and that was without any of the other challenges crowding his brain, beating him down.  By the time he’d moved out of home he hadn’t even thought to pack his board; it had probably been chucked away out of spite by his father.

   “Ahh,” said Pansy, eying up the vodka and opening up the crisps.  “Nice one gents, come join the show.”

   “There’s no show,” huffed Draco, swigging from his can again as he weaved the board slickly around them.  “I’m just having fun, you lot are simply a bunch of dried up bores.”

   Theo rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck and smirking.  “Go on then,” he goaded as Blaise hooked up his iPod and got some music going.  “Give us a go.”

   Draco laughed and hopped off, throwing his mate the wheels.  “Don’t break it,” he warned, grabbing him and ruffling his hair. 

   He wished they had more than one skateboard; now he’d started he wanted to keep going, he didn’t want to share.  But the fact that they were having a go did still cheer him, because they were interested, they were having fun.  It made his mind wander idly to a potential ‘next time’, where he’d convince them to get their own boards, so they could race and compete and Draco wouldn’t be reduced to watching. 

   He felt free when he was skating, and after just a week back at it he couldn’t believe he’d ever given up on it.  Yeah, maybe Pansy was right, maybe it was supposed to be for kids and doing it as a near adult was slightly cringe-worthy.  But on a board, he wasn’t disappointing anyone, wasn’t disgracing anyone.  He was just…Draco.

   The sun slowly started edging down behind the trees as they took turns on the board.  Even Pansy deigned to have a go once she’d taken her heeled boots off, boasting she was going to be better than any of them, and actually, for a beginner, she wasn’t half bad.  But they were just playing, going back and forth not even half way up the sides of the semi-circular ramp.  Draco on the other hand was getting more and more bold with each turn he took, flying up and down the half pipe as he remembered how it used to feel when he was younger, steeling himself to make a proper jump.

   The other three were cheering him on, several cans into the box of cider and halfway down the vodka bottle, wolf whistling and clapping as he geared up to launch himself into the air.  A thrill of elation swooped through his stomach as he powered up the ramp, his body turning upside down as he grabbed the lip with his hand, pulling him and the board back to sail down the half pipe again. 

   A blur of movement to his right threw him off though, and his friends’ rowdy cheers turned to gasps as a flash of brown and black fur struck just as he hit the centre of the pipe.  Draco gave a strangled cry as he swerved the board, only just avoiding clipping whatever it was and sending himself sprawling, crashing painfully into the stone slabs.  He rolled head over heels, his board scattering away from him as he grunted and tumbled to a halt. 

   Pans, Theo and Blaise were scrambling to their feet, but another figure reached Draco first, a silhouette dashing over to him in the twilight.  “I’m so sorry!” the guy cried as Draco gingerly touched his scraped knee and blinked.  “Are you alright?”

   He felt Pansy’s hands on his back, gently helping him to sit up, and the stranger stepped to the side, his features becoming visible.  “Oh,” said Draco without thinking.  “I, um…”

   He was about their age, with a dark tousle of hair and glasses that framed his green eyes perfectly.  His clothes were casual – jeans, trainers, t-shit and flannel shirt – but Draco could see his body was slender yet solid beneath the fabric, muscles moving under tanned skin as he looked guiltily at Draco’s friends then back to him.

   “Are you hurt?” he asked as Pansy scowled protectively over to him. Concern lined his features as he crouched in front of Draco, trying to inspect the damage as Draco just gawped at his handsome face.  _Get a grip,_ his brain hissed.

   “Come on,” grumbled Theo, heaving him back up to his feet and looking into his eyes for concussion.  But Draco batted him away.

   “I didn’t even hit my head,” he said, inspecting his bloody knee and elbows.  Yep, Pans would definitely never let him ride without pads again.  “What happened, there was something-?”

   “Err,” said the stranger guilty, standing along with Pansy.  “I believe that was Snuffles,” he said, pointing towards Draco’s skateboard, where a ball off fluff with fangs was currently gnawing on one of the blue wheels.  “Sorry.”

   Draco laughed, forgetting his scrapes and dropping to the ground, ruffling the Alsatian puppy over the head.  “You terror,” he admonished.  “You almost killed me.”  The puppy was delighted to have some attention, and hoped and skipped around Draco, yapping and lolling his tongue.

   “Shh!” Harry scolded, but there wasn’t really any malice behind it.  He beamed down at Draco as he talked nonsense to the dog, berating him for trying to break his neck.  Blaise merely raising a weary eyebrow, but Pansy and Theo were laughing again, presumably at how ridiculous Draco was as a human being.  

   “I’m dog sitting,” the guy said.  “He’s not very well trained yet and he likes to chase bikes, and cars, and runners, and apparently now skateboarders too.”  Draco looked up at him as he ran his hand through his black hair and rolled his eyes.  “Which is a real shame as it looked like you were making a nice jump there.”

   Draco forgot about his stinging knee and smiled goofily up at the guy, enjoying Snuffles’ little growls and nips at his hand.  “You saw?”

   He shrugged.  “As I was running after that monster there.”

   Theo picked up the board and inspected it.  “Look like it’s still in one piece, unlike Draco here,” he laughed, winking at the stranger.  The guy bit his lip and looked stricken, and Draco scowled at Theo.

   “I’m _fine,”_ he insisted.  “I once broke my arm and dislocated my knee – _that_ was a bad fall.”

   Instead of reassuring the dog sitter, his face dropped even further.  “Perhaps I should take you to the hospital?” he suggested.

   Pansy snorted.  “I told him I wouldn’t if he refused to wear a helmet.”

   “Alright, alright,” said Draco, standing and letting Snuffles inspect his other friends’ shoes.  “Look, I’m just banged up, no harm.”  He fondled the puppy’s ear.  “We don’t want Snuffles getting a complex now, do we?”

   The man rubbed the back of his neck, looking Draco over, and he felt a warm sensation flicker along his skin that had nothing to do with the fall.  “Okay,” he said, blowing out a lungful of air.  “Well, how about I buy you a drink – we were just meeting Snuffles’ parents at the pub over the green.”

   “Nah,” said Blaise with a shrug, making Draco raise both eyebrows in scorn, as he was pretty sure the gorgeous guy had been talking to him.  “We’ve got plenty here thanks.”

   “Hmph!” said Pansy, crossing her arms.  “You can stay here and drink warm tinnies if you like.”  She smiled at the dark haired man.  “Does this place do chips?”

   He smiled back, eyes glancing at Draco then back to her.  “It even does fish to go with them.”

   “Excellent,” she beamed, and began clearing up her stuff, and Draco felt a rush of gratitude towards her.  The guy might not have meant to invite all of them, but Draco doubted he would have been brave enough to go alone.  He didn’t seem put out though, so Draco assumed it was okay. 

   Theo shrugged.  “Sounds good to me mate,” he said, handing Draco back his skateboard and daring to give Snuffles a stroke, getting slobbered on for his trouble.

   Blaise sighed and turned off his speakers, and in the sudden quiet Draco looked shyly at the man.  He was busy rounding up the puppy and putting him on a lead, so Draco was able to appreciate him unabashed.  He hadn’t had much luck with guys since moving to uni, and his home town had had a limited supply of eligible bachelors.  But there was something about this stranger that had his heart racing, even though the adrenaline from his accident was abating.  Could it be possible he held the same inclinations as Draco?  It was so hard to tell, it made Draco anxious under most circumstances to the point where he daren’t risk trying any advances for fear of unpleasant repercussions.

   You only needed to get the shit kicked out of you once or twice before you learnt that. 

   But the guy smiled openly at him again once Snuffles was secured, and held out a hand.  “I’m Harry by the way,” he said as Draco shook it.

   Harry.  He liked the way that sounded.  “Draco,” he replied.  “And this is Pansy, Theodore and Blaise.”

   Harry shook their hands too before starting to lead the way back across the grassy expanse, towards a pub that sat on the corner of a series of new build housing.  “You want to hold him?” he offered to Draco, reaching over with the dog’s lead. 

   Draco hesitated, but only for a moment.  “Sure,” he said, looping his hand through the leather handle, and Snuffles galloped along by his feet.

   “Please don’t try and kill Draco again,” Harry begged the dog, making Draco laugh.  “At least let me buy him a drink first okay?”

   Draco was glad the other three were trailing behind, because he was worried a little blush had crept onto his pale face.  _He’s just being polite,_ Draco told himself.  Maybe he should feel embarrassed that Pansy had crashed the invite – Harry probably just wanted to meet his mates on a Saturday night, not have a bunch of students tag along.  But he couldn’t quite summon the energy to feel bad.  Harry and he were walking side by side as they approached the pub, and it felt nice.  It didn’t have to be anything more than that.  Nice wasn’t always easy to come by. 

   “So you guys are at the uni?” Harry asked as they wound their way around the beer garden towards a couple that were waving enthusiastically at Harry.  Draco nodded as they navigated around the tables and chairs, dusk in full swing now but the air was still warm enough. 

   The girl had light brown skin and a riot of curly hair that reminded Draco of a soft cloud of black smoke.  The guy was ginger, freckled and sitting a good head above the girl, and wasted no time dropping to his knees to greet Snuffles as he strained in Draco’s hand to get back to his owner.

   “Hello trouble, hello!” he cooed, play fighting with the puppy, before glancing up at Harry.  “Made some friends mate?”

   Harry sighed and looked sheepishly at Draco as the other three came up behind them.  “Actually your dog was making friends with Draco’s skateboard,” he said, raising an eyebrow.  “It didn’t end too well for Draco’s extremities.”  He pointed at his bloody knee and elbows.

   “I’m fine,” said Draco, again, but the girl was already on her feet, horror on her face.

   “Oh gosh I’m so sorry, let me see!”

   Draco tried to protest but Harry shook his head as she swooped down to his injured leg.  “Hermione’s training to be a doctor,” he said matter-of-factly.  “You better just let her look.”

   “Beer _and_ medical attention,” said Pansy over Draco’s shoulder to Harry.  “I approve of your deceptive ways.”

   Harry smirked at her as Hermione stood from inspecting Draco’s scraped knee.  Her boyfriend was still on the floor, rather undignified with his puppy, but he didn’t seem to care as he watched everyone else above him.

   “I’ll get some water and give it a quick wash.”  Draco opened his mouth but she jabbed a finger in his face.  _“No_ arguing.  My dog did this, I will fix it.”

   “And I’m going to get a round in,” Harry announced.  “What does everyone want?”

   He took their orders and wouldn’t let any of them give him any money, which Draco felt bad about, but maybe he’d let them buy a round next time.  _Next time._ He was pushing it, they were gate crashing their evening, surely Hermione and her boyfriend were annoyed?

   In fact, they seemed quite the contrary.  The ginger, Ron, was left in charge of finding a couple more seats for them to throw around the table they’d nabbed under one of the outdoor heaters, and he jabbered on about how naughty Snuffles was but he thought it was quite funny really.  The dog in question seemed to have grown quite attached to Draco, and stayed by his heel as they all settled themselves down. 

   It wasn’t long before Harry and Hermione were back with a tray of drinks and Draco had to suffer Hermione dabbing at his grazes with cold, wet kitchen towel before pulling out some antiseptic cream she just happened to have in her hand bag.

   “Med students,” Ron had whispered dramatically, rolling his eyes and making the group laugh.

   It turned out Hermione was still studying at the same uni, and would be for a few more years to come.  But Harry and Ron had graduated last year, making them a couple of years older than Draco and his friends.  Well, not Blaise, who hurried to inform them that he had taken not one but _two_ gap years travelling the world, as if that somehow made him superior.  Pansy shook her head at him before grilling Ron about his training to become a police officer, wanting to know an unhealthy amount about mace spray training (“Painful!” was all Ron would say), and Theo chatted to Hermione about how he was thinking of doing a masters and how she’d managed the costs and so on.

   Which left Draco with Harry, his jeans and elbows damp with water and a little blood, cider nullifying the stinging of his injuries, Snuffles the puppy between his legs.  “You skate often?” Harry asked, taking a sip of his rum and coke, nudging the board propped up by the table with his trainer.

   Draco shook his head and tapped his fingers on the cold pint glass.  “First time in years.”

   Harry leant back and frowned at Snuffles, who looked up, appropriately guilty.  “You big bully,” he chatted at the dog.  “You ruined his big moment.”

   Draco flushed warm again.  _He’s just being nice,_ he repeated to himself.  “What do you do now then?” he asked, keen to deflect the attention off himself.  He was also genuinely eager to hear what people did once they graduated.  He had been working towards getting into university for so long, he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be aiming for anymore.  Good marks seemed a little bit abstract against the deluge of life experience he’d finally been allowed to have. 

   “I’m sort of an assistant at the moment,” Harry said, bobbing his head from side to side.  “I’m training to work in social care.”  He smiled in a way that was kind of self-deprecating.  “I like kids I guess, families.  I’d like to think I could keep some together.”

   Draco swallowed.  “Wow,” he said.  That was so impressive, so _noble._

   But Harry followed it up with a laugh.  “Rubbish pay, of course,” he said, shaking his head.  “I’m a glutton for punishment.  How about you, what are you studying, you got a plan in mind?”

   Draco felt himself get a little smaller.  How was he supposed to compete with something as altruistic as that?  “Um,” he said, feeling stupid.  “I’m doing chemistry.  Not sure what that’s supposed to lead to, but I like it so I guess I’ll figure that out in a couple of years.”

   Harry just shrugged.  “I’m still not sure what I’m doing,” he admitted, taking another drink.  “Neither’re half the people I know.  You’re better off getting a degree in something you enjoy, then working out the details later.”

   “Oh,” said Draco, unaccustomed to this sort of attitude.  He was used to being dogged, told what he had to do and when he had to do it by.  If it wasn’t his parents it was his teachers or his tutors or his professors.  Harry’s words knocked him off guard a little bit. 

   “You must be pretty clever, doing something like that,” Harry carried on though.  “Your parents must be proud.”

   Draco shrugged.  “I think my dad would have preferred me to do law,” he said dismissively, purposefully not thinking about the screaming rows he’d had to endure once he’d announced he didn’t want to follow in his old man’s footsteps.  Thank god for student loans, otherwise he would have had no choice but to study what his father made him.  “So, you didn’t know you wanted to be a social worker?” he asked, switching the focus back to Harry. 

   He shrugged.  “Still don’t know if I do.  The red tape is horrendous, but right now I’m in the thick of it, helping people, that’s what I like.”  He gave Draco a half-smile.  “My degree was in theatre studies.”

   Draco couldn’t help but snort into his cider, imagining Harry prancing about in tights reciting Shakespeare.  He himself had always had enough drama in his life without being tempted to put any on a stage. 

   “Oi!” cried Harry indignantly, digging him in the ribs, but Draco was glad to see he was grinning as he wiped his mouth.  “It was mostly theory,” he explained, probably guessing Draco’s line of thought.  “And I always preferred directing to acting.”

   “Ahh,” said Draco raising an eyebrow.  “Well I guess that’s okay then.”

   “Why?” asked Harry, a mischievous glint in his eye as he lowered his voice.  “Worried I’m some magnificent poof?”  He winked, and Draco felt his stomach lurch. 

   He was glad the conversation opened up then into some film Blaise and Pans had seen recently, as had Harry and Ron, dragging the captivating, green-eyed, soon-to-be-social-worker away from Draco for a second.   What did he mean by that?  That he _was_ gay, or that it was okay because he wasn’t, and therefore Draco had nothing to worry about? 

   Snuffles rubbed his head on Draco’s leg, drawing his attention with his happy, if not slightly gormless face.  It wasn’t like he was going to make a move anyway, Draco told himself, letting the knot that had appeared in his guts loosen a little bit.  He finished his drink and decided a quick exit was probably the safest option.

   “Another round?” Pansy announced though, thwarting his plan. 

   “Oh no,” he stammered, looking at Harry, Ron and Hermione.  “We’ve already interrupted your night for too long.”

   Hermione frowned at him.  “You’re not interrupting,” she said, as if this was obvious, and Pansy gave him a death glare.  Maybe she was interested in Harry, Draco thought suddenly.  It was selfish of him to have hogged him so far, he’d probably love to talk to Draco’s beautiful, heterosexual best friend. 

   But he didn’t seem that interested in Pansy, as he leant towards Draco, a troubled expression on his face.  “You don’t have to go do you?” he asked.

   Draco’s mouth opened and closed like a goldfish.  “Uh,” he said, feeling like everyone was looking at him.  “No, no I just thought-”

   “Excellent,” Harry said, not letting him finish.  “Same again everyone?”

   Blaise insisted on getting this one with Pansy, and as they strode off to the bar she gave him a look that he couldn’t quite interpret.  But Harry was chatting to him again, asking which halls they were living in and rattling off several stories with Ron about some late night shenanigans they’d gotten themselves into during their time as first years, much to Theo’s delight and Hermione’s growing horror. 

   And so the evening went on, and Draco found his brain getting fuzzier and fuzzier despite the mountain of thick cut chips Pansy ordered from the kitchen.  Harry and he got up several times, to visit the loo or the bar, but no matter how much everyone moved around, the two of them always ended up still sitting next to one another.  His thigh would always be pressed against Draco’s, and it could have been the cider talking but Draco could have sworn Harry was touching him a little more than necessary, just brushes of fingertips every now and again, but each one seemed to jolt Draco like an electric shock.

   Pansy made him tell the story of the time when several people from the floor below theirs in halls had gone ghost hunting at Halloween in the nearby woods, and Draco had organised their floor to dress up as zombies and jump out from behind the trees to scare the living daylights out of them.  Theo was in stitches at the memory, and Draco tried to explain it had just been an idle suggestion on his part that his more exuberant housemates had taken to heart, but Harry was laughing as hard as Theo as Pansy described how the sports ed lads in particular had shrieked like small children, so he let it slide. 

   Harry kept looking at him like he knew something he didn’t, and Draco was drinking quicker because of it.  He was the only one not to protest when Hermione insisted they all neck a pint of water before the next round.

   Darkness fell fully around them, and Snuffles made friends with the lively Saturday night crowd.  One of the girls from behind the bar came out with an empty tupperwear box filled with cold water for him, and then a bit later a plate full of chicken scraps that he essentially inhaled down his little puppy throat. 

   It was nice, Draco thought, hanging out with non-students, they had more to talk about.  He felt relaxed, and not just because of the several ciders and hot chips making his stomach full.  He and Harry were not only leg to leg now, but shoulder to shoulder, and he found himself giving Harry little jabs with his finger as they talked, or slaps on the thigh. 

   Hermione yawned loudly, and gave Ron an apologetic look.  “Ahh,” he said knowingly.  “We better get going.  The beast down there needs some real food,” he said accusingly at the docile puppy by Draco and Harry’s feet.  “And we’ve both got homework to do tomorrow.”

   Pansy checked her phone for the time.  “I should probably get going too.  Boys?” she raised an angular eyebrow at Blaise and Theo across the table from Draco.

   He expected them to protest, but they just nodded and threw back the rest of their drinks, and that’s when Draco realised he still had a full pint.  “Oh,” he said.  “Don’t worry, I’ve probably had enough.”

   But Pansy waved her hand.  “Nonsense,” she said as she stood.  “You stay, Harry’s still got a drink too, no need to rush.”

   “Yup,” said Theo, who was probably the most worse for wear of them all.  “She can protect us Drake – scare off any muggers.”

   “We’ll see you tomorrow yeah Harry?” said Ron, he and Hermione standing along with Draco’s friends.  “Thanks for dog sitting.”

   “Come on Snuffles,” Hermione cooed, coaxing the puppy away from Draco and Harry’s feet where he’d spent most of the evening.

   And within a minute, they had all left.  Draco suddenly felt like there was a spotlight on him, and turned to see if Harry was equally affected.  But he was grinning and shaking his head into his rum and coke.

   “I get the feeling,” he chuckled.  “There was a bit of a conspiracy going on there.”

   Draco swallowed, feeling more sober than he had in the past hour or so.  “What do you mean?” he asked.  Because, to him, it looked like all their mates had left them alone on purpose, which could only mean one thing as far as his sluggish brain could see, but that wasn’t…surely…?

   Harry put his drink down and licked his lips, turning his body into Draco’s.  “They probably realised,” he said, smiling lazily in a way that made ice slip down Draco’s spine.  “That I’ve been wanting an opportunity to do something for the past few hours.”

   “What?” Draco gulped, resisting the urge to pull back and move away. 

   “This,” Harry said, and closed the gap between them, touching his mouth to Draco’s, slipping his hand over his good knee. 

   There was a moment of surprise, but it was short-lived as Draco leant into the kiss, parting his lips so his tongue could find Harry’s, losing himself in the sensation.  He hadn’t kissed anyone in a very long time, and he’d come to assume everyone was a bit inexperienced and sloppy with it.  But not Harry.  He was soft and sure and seemed to know just how to mould Draco’s mouth to his, humming as they drew their bodies closer.

   It didn’t last long, but Draco was pretty certain as they pulled apart that it was the best kiss of his entire nineteen years on the planet.  “Wow,” he said as Harry ran his hand through the hair on the back of Draco’s head. 

   “Wow right back,” he said, sending nervous shudders over Draco’s skin. 

   A swift double tap of heavy fingers on their table broke them both from their reverie.  A gruff looking guy began clearing up the empties their friends had left behind.  “None of that please,” he said, not looking them in the eye as he stacked the pint glasses up, one on top of the other.  “This is a family pub.”

   Shame and abhorrence doused Draco’s happiness in an instant, and he drew away from Harry hurriedly.  Harry however didn’t seem all that phased.  “I’m sorry?” he asked pleasantly, succeeding in getting the guy to meet his gaze. 

   “This isn’t Soho,” he challenged, snatching up the last of the glasses.  “There isn’t a rainbow flag hanging in my window.  You drink here, you’ll respect family values.”

   Draco swallowed thickly, hands shaking in his lap.  But Harry cast a look around the beer garden at the crowd made up mostly of rowdy twenty-somethings loudly enjoying their Saturday night; certainly no impressionable children.  He smiled at the guy in front of them, and knocked back the rest of his drink.  “Oh do fuck off,” he said cheerfully.

   Draco went slack with shock, and almost didn’t register Harry standing.  “I beg your pardon!” the bartender spluttered.  “This is my establishment, I’ll not have it sullied with you people flaunting yourselves in public!”

   “Duly noted,” said Harry, picking up Draco’s skateboard.  That was the last straw for him; he’d forgotten the blasted thing was there and he felt tears at the back of his eyes in humiliation.  He wished he’d never bought it, he should have left it in the past where it belonged. 

   Harry was still perky though.  “I’ll be sure and quote that when I annihilate this place on every social media platform I can find.  Coming Draco?”

   He almost started at Harry using his name, but he quickly nodded, desperate to get away from the man turning purple in front of them.  “That’s it!” he yelled.  “Barred, get out and don’t bother coming back!”

   Harry was ignoring him though as he guided Draco gently but quickly towards the gate in the fence that took them back out into the field.  He was also ignoring the other people watching them as they passed, some frowning, some laughing.  Draco couldn’t tell what they were thinking; were they laughing at them or with them, were they angry at them for kissing or at the owner for kicking them out?

   The guy was still shouting as Harry steered them around the pub towards the houses, and didn’t stop until they were well out of sight in a quiet road of red brick houses.  “What a prick!” he cried, laughing and grinning in the streetlight as he turned to face Draco.  He tried to muster a smile back, but his insides felt like snakes, his eyes hot and prickly.  Harry’s mirth dropped instantly at the sight of him.  “Hey,” he said, stepping closer and touching Draco’s elbow.  “Hey, you’re not upset are you?  That guy was a Class A dickhead.”

   Draco didn’t know what to say, it was like he’d left his voice back under the table with Snuffles’ chicken scraps.  So dogs were welcome, but not gays?  That sounded about right.

   “I, uh,” he said, hugging himself.  “I should probably get going.”

   But Harry just stepped closer to him, rubbing his shoulder in a comforting way that Draco couldn’t make himself pull away from.  “Please don’t,” said Harry softly, dropping the stupid skateboard to the floor so he could hold Draco’s other shoulder too.  “Don’t ever let anyone talk to you like that, we didn’t do anything wrong, okay?”

   Draco was shivering, he could feel it against Harry’s hands.  The air was cooler away from the heater, but he suspected it was more than that.  A slimy sense of self-loathing was crawling through his insides, and he couldn’t bring himself to look Harry in the eye.

   Which was probably why he touched his fingers to Draco’s chin, and tilted his head up slightly, making it harder for Draco to hide.  “I like you Draco,” he said plainly, and he shivered again, but this time it wasn’t wholly unpleasant.  “I wanted to kiss you pretty much from the moment I helped knock you off that skateboard.  And I’m not going to let some narrow-minded twat spoil that.”

   Draco felt like he expected some sort of response, so he nodded, trying to let go of some of the tension in his body.  “Okay,” he breathed out.  He let Harry’s words wash over him, absorbed them into his skin, quelling the goose bumps.  “I guess I wanted to kiss you too,” he admitted, grateful Harry had let go of his face so he could look away shyly.

   But he still sensed Harry smiling at him from the corner of his eye.  “Does that mean I can kiss you again?”

   His light-heartedness was catching, and Draco felt himself smiling too as he nodded. 

   Hands wrapped around his waist as Harry brought them together, bodies flush as they stood on the deserted pavement in the shadows of the streetlight.  Draco leaned in as Harry brought their mouths together again, his hand trailing up Draco’s neck and into his hair.  He tasted sweet from the coke and smelled like mint shower gel and faintly of Pansy’s cigarettes.  He was slightly shorter than Draco, but it still very much felt like he was in command of the embrace as it stretched out.

   “Don’t leave,” he said breathlessly, drawing away and stroking Draco’s cheek.  “Come back to mine, let me cheer you up again.”

   Draco bit his lip, but he wasn’t so masochistic to deny the fact that Harry was asking to spend more time with time, that he was interested in him for some reason.  “Okay,” he said quietly, letting himself be kissed once more.

   Harry lived in a house-share about five minutes walk away, and Draco spent the journey quietly listening as Harry chatted on about his housemates, whom he’d become friends with on the uni football team.  Harry was a striker, which lead Draco to think idly about him scoring goals and receiving the adulation of the crowd.  He would have liked to see that, Harry, the sports hero. 

   Thinking about football as they wandered down a street full of houses much older than the new builds by the pub meant Draco didn’t have to think too much about the fact he was going home with a guy.  A guy who had his own bedroom, and no parents lurking disapprovingly.  Just how far was Draco planning on letting this go?

   He wasn’t exactly innocent, but all of his experiences had happened behind the bike shed, figuratively speaking.  Should he be nervous?  What exactly was Harry expecting?

   But Harry didn’t make him nervous, in fact Harry had somehow made him feel calm again after the crushing humiliation at the pub.  Harry was light and quick to laugh, still holding Draco’s battered skateboard and waving it around to help illustrate his stories.  Harry kept glancing at Draco, as if to check he was still there, that he was still interested in what Harry was saying, that he wasn’t bored and changing his mind and going to leave again. 

   It made Draco feel anchored and safe, so as they turned and walked up the driveway past an overgrown lawn to a slightly shabby semi-detached house, he just felt curious and a tiny bit excited.

   “Hello!” Harry cried as he opened the front door.  There were shouts coming from a living room to the left as Draco wiped his feet on the mat out of habit, and the quiet roar of a crowd could be heard from a T.V.  Harry grinned at Draco, beckoning him along as he darted into the lounge, so Draco followed. 

   Unsurprisingly, the three guys were watching footy, West Ham verses Arsenal by the looks of it, and were getting pretty feisty over it.  “Fellas,” Harry announced, even though none of them were tearing their eyes from the telly.  “This is Draco.  Draco, this is Dean, Seamus and Neville.”

   “Hey Dra-” started the black one of the three blokes, before bellowing like a deranged animal.  “REF!” he yelled throwing his hands at the T.V. in disbelief.  “Foul! Are you _blind!”_

   Harry laughed and ushered Draco out of the room again, closing the door behind them.  “Best leave them to it,” he said fondly, heading to the back of the house into a long kitchen.  “You want a drink?”

   The kitchen was quite new, but the washing up piled on the sides and overflowing bin alluded to a more student lifestyle that the boys had obviously hung on to.  Draco itched to do some tidying, but shoved his hands in his pockets instead.  “Uh, yeah sure, what you got?”

   “More cider?” Harry asked, opening the fridge and inspecting the contents.  Draco nodded, touched he’d remembered what he’d been drinking, which was ridiculous as he’d bought him several rounds, but he knew plenty of people who would have forgotten as soon as they’d left the bar. 

   Harry took one for himself too, then lead the way back through the house and up two flights of stairs to an attic bedroom.  Draco liked the layout very much, you had to climb another narrow flight of stairs beyond the door before emerging into the room, revealing a slanting ceiling and a single, large skylight.  Harry flicked on a couple of lamps and watched as Draco inspected his paraphernalia. 

   It seemed Harry was somewhat stuck in the 80s, judging from the posters of David Bowie, _Gremlins_ and _Back to the Future._   Mr T was pointing down at them, with the caption _“I pity the fool!”_ and Freddie Mercury raised his fist to the sky, silhouetted by the crowd at Wembley Stadium.  Manchester United featured heavily too on the walls, as well as a scarf hanging over the chair by the desk, figurines on the windowsill, even a signed photo of Ashley Young. 

   Draco was pleased to see Harry kept his room quite neat compared to the carnage in the kitchen.  There was nothing that made him want to run around and straighten or sweep or alphabetise, helping him to relax even further. 

   “Not exactly embracing adulthood yet,” Harry admitted sheepishly as he rested the skateboard against his wardrobe and cracked his can open with a hiss.

   But Draco shook his head.  “No,” he insisted.  “I like it.  I feel like I’ve got a sneak peek into your life.”

   Harry came and stood closer, not quite touching but Draco could feel his presence like he was giving off static.  “So what’s the verdict?” he asked.  There was actually a hint of apprehension to his tone, and the idea that he really cared what Draco thought of him warmed Draco’s insides.

   He pulled the ring on his own cider, still pleasantly buzzing from the drinks at the pub, and took a swig.  “I think you seem fun,” he said, giving Harry a smile.  “I think what you see is what you get.”

   Harry grinned at him and nodded, looking around his personal space like he didn’t see it every day, like he was using fresh eyes.  “That doesn’t sound too bad,” he said. 

   “It’s not bad,” Draco said.  “It’s good.  I like to know where I stand with people.”

   This sobered Harry a bit.  “Yeah,” he said, bumping his shoulder gently into Draco’s.  “I’m starting to get that.” 

   Draco couldn’t help but feel another flush of shame again, thinking of what had happened at the pub.  He’d opened up and got bitten for his troubles.  Not by Harry, but the good old association of getting kicked when he let himself be vulnerable was still there. 

   It must have shown on his face, because Harry took a step in front of him and slipped his hand carefully onto Draco’s hip.  Harry was right, he shouldn’t let some stranger affect him so badly, but the words kept playing in his head.  The physical contact was good, it grounded him back to the bedroom, letting the pub flit away. 

   “I’ll always try and be honest with you,” Harry said softly.  The ‘always’ implied something that would be happening in the future, and it made Draco’s heart skip.  “I don’t like that you’re upset.  You don’t think there’s anything wrong with us kissing do you?”

   Draco shook his head vigorously.  “I’m not ashamed of who I am,” he told Harry fiercely, feeling bold enough to look him in the eye. 

   “Good,” said Harry, putting down his can on the desk.  “Because there’s nothing wrong with this.”  He lifted his hands to run his fingers through Draco’s hair, and he was glad he hadn’t cut it in a while, he like the feeling of it slipping through Harry’s loose grip.  He closed his eyes and drifted with the sensation.  “And there’s nothing wrong with this,” Harry continued, touching his lips to Draco’s neck, trailing kisses slowly up his jaw line, setting his skin alight with pleasure. 

   Draco reached out and set his own cider down as well, letting his hands feel up the length of Harry’s back and down again, coming to rest on his hips, pulling the two of them closer together as Harry found his mouth again. 

   “And there’s _definitely_ nothing wrong with this,” he whispered between kisses, and Draco could feel himself getting light headed.  He hoped he was doing alright, because Harry was so vastly superior to anyone else he’d locked tongues with and Draco didn’t want to be embarrassing himself.  But Harry didn’t seem to be complaining as he nuzzled closer, working their mouths with fervour. 

   “There might be something wrong with this though,” he mumbled pulling up Draco’s lightweight jumper, running his hands against his obliques.  “Far too much of it.”  Draco grinned and bit his lip as he raised his arms for Harry to strip him from the waist up.  Nakedness had never really featured in his sexual adventures so far, quickies in the great outdoors didn’t really allow for it.  He thought he’d feel more shy, but Harry was flooding him with confidence, making it perfectly clear how happy and excited he was, how much he wanted him, and Draco couldn’t do much more than succumb and enjoy himself. 

   Before their lips could meet again he slid his hands under Harry’s flannel shirt, pushing it off his shoulders as Harry helped by yanking his t-shirt off in one swift move.  He had a beautiful body, muscular without being intimidating and skin a lovely olive colour.  For a second, Draco worried Harry might think he was too pale and skinny, but the next thing he knew he was being dragged across the room, a tangle of limbs and mashed lips as they tumbled onto the bed, bare skin feeling incredible and everywhere.

   “Anyone ever tell you,” Harry uttered, his mouth pecking kisses down Draco’s chest.  “How gorgeous you are?”

   Draco was gasping for air, hands running through Harry’s course black hair.  “Not really,” he admitted, unable to surpass a happy laugh.  “No one I cared about.”

   “Atrocious,” said Harry, working his way back up again.  “What a travesty.  You’re fucking gorgeous.”  He threw his glasses at the bedside cabinet and latched on to Draco’s mouth again, their bodies grinding together as Draco’s jeans became uncomfortable with his arousal. 

   He could feel his fingers digging into Harry’s back, he was probably bruising the poor guy, but he was just so solid, so real, Draco couldn’t seem to hold on tight enough.  He was flying, he felt like he could touch the sky.

   This was way better than skating.

   Harry’s hands were busy with his jeans, and Draco followed his lead, tackling Harry’s belt, not breaking their kiss other than to gasp for breath and dive back in again.  Soon there was nothing but flesh, nothing but sensation and shudders and cries that made Draco wish they’d locked the door, but not concerned enough to cause anything more than the briefest of pauses. 

   A drawer was opened, and Draco felt his eyes roll into the back of his head as Harry’s hand slipped between them, making them slick and wet, helping them glide together as Draco gritted his teeth and stuttered Harry’s name over and over. 

   He was close, Harry was too by the sounds of it as he whispered in Draco’s ear, sweet promises of things to come, declarations that might have made Draco blush if he wasn’t teetering over the edge…

   His body jerked and he grabbed Harry by the shoulders as he too found his completion, collapsing on top of Draco as he gasped for air, feeling like he was seeing stars behind his closed eyes.

   They lay in a tangled mess, chests rising and falling as they came back down to Earth.  After a time, Harry raised his head from Draco’s neck, sweeping his blond hair from his eyes and staring down at him.  “You alright?” he asked, fingers trailing down the side of his face, running along his lower lip.

   Draco found his hands moving too, tracing patterns on Harry’s back.  “Definitely _nothing_ wrong with that,” he said through a grin.

   He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, he hadn’t meant to spend the night in the bed of a man he’d just met.  But Harry had rolled them under the duvet, into the clean sheets and dried them off with several tissues.  And Harry had wrapped his arms around him, tucked his head under his chin and kissed his hair.

   The last thing Draco remembered seeing before his eyes finally closed and he yielded to his dreams, was the skateboard, propped up next to Harry’s wardrobe.  He felt free, he felt happy and safe, like nothing could touch him, like he was thirteen again and the world had no hold over him.

   Yes, he thought, enveloped in Harry.  He was actually _very_ glad he’d bought that stupid skateboard.  

 

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, please review! To discover more of my writing, visit www.helenjuliet.com


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